


Don't wanna know your name (just take me by the hand)

by olandesevolante



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Slash, M/M, artist!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olandesevolante/pseuds/olandesevolante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David knows who he is; everyone in his Faculty knows who that man is, because he is one of the most talented artist of their university. He is Juan Mata, the most promising new painter in Manchester, the joy of every teacher, the student that already can organize art exhibitions with his paintings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't wanna know your name (just take me by the hand)

**Author's Note:**

> -I blame [this](http://cherishkobe.tumblr.com/post/115103557669/united-player-portrait-challenge-2015-juan-mata) and a boring lesson at my uni for this.  
> -English is not my first language, so I’m already sorry for all the mistakes  
> -I don’t know much about what they do in a Faculty of Arts, so I invented everything  
> -Title from the amazing “Beautiful tango” by Hindi Zahra & Mashrou’ Leila
> 
> [Here](http://chriscapsule458.lofter.com/post/2d28a4_7140015) you can find the Chinese translation of this story.

**Don’t wanna know your name (just take me by the hand)**  
  
  
The sun is shining in Manchester, and as this is not a common thing, David is happy that, for one time, he can go and study in his favourite park and that he can go there with his sunglasses and the hope to be warmed by this pale sun. It is the only thing that he is missing from Spain, the beautiful weather: he has been used to it since when he was born, and the transfer to a city well-known for the opposite kind of it made him a little sad, the first days he was here. But then he hadn’t had time enough to complain. The Faculty of Arts requires a lot of time and a lot of energies, and in the routine of the everyday life of a student he got used to the rain and the cloudy sky to the point that he now likes them.  
This doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to enjoy all the sun that he can today.  
At the park there is many more people, but David’s favourite spot is still free and he runs towards the bench to occupy it. He doesn’t choose it because there is the shadow of a tree to cover him (because, of course, he usual doesn’t need a shadow to shelter from the sun) or because of a beautiful view. He always sits there because from that point he can distract himself from his books looking at the most handsome guy he has ever seen in his life.  
He knows who he is; everyone in his Faculty knows who that man is, because he is one of the most talented artist of their university. He is Juan Mata, the most promising new painter in Manchester, the joy of every teacher, the student that already can organize art exhibitions with his paintings (people say that he can just because he has a sponsor behind him, someone that pays everything he needs for them, someone that probably fell in love with his arts back when he didn’t study in Manchester, but these are only voices). And not only he is very good with brushes, he has a great talent at taking photographs too, and you never see him without his camera or without his sketch book.  
But, even with all this, David had discovered in his first days in this city that Juan apparently loves his same park too, because he has seen the painter here from the start. He doesn’t come to study, though: David has never seen him lying in the grass or sit on a bench with a book, as he always does. Juan comes to this park with his pencil case and a scratch pad, and spends his time drawing; he doesn’t draw random things that comes to his mind, he makes portraits of the people that he sees around him. David knows this because after he has finished, Juan always brings his draw to the people he had sketched on the paper and gives it to them. David is always really careful to sit where Juan can’t see him; he would love to have Juan portraying him, but the only idea of the most handsome guy on the Earth that gives something to him is enough to make his ears becoming of a bright red and making him babbling like he doesn’t know English or Spanish anymore.  
So he just sits there, lifting sometimes (more times than he should, actually) from his book to take a glimpse of Juan Mata drawing people that aren’t him and wondering if he will ever find the courage to sit at a place where he can be noticed by Juan and get to talk with him, finally. For the moment, he enjoys the warmth of the sun of his face.  
  
The reality is more simple than all of his mind wanderings, though.  
  
«Hey, little girl. You shouldn’t be walking around alone in a park».  
Juan has spotted this girl with two long and blonde braids walking without anyone with her and got worried. Maybe she has lost his parents and they are searching for her, while she doesn’t care at all. At the moment, she seems very interested in Juan’s pencils.  
«I’m not alone. My brother is with me», replies her while looking at his draw.  
«Do you have him in your pockets, little girl? I can’t see him». Juan doesn’t see anyone looking for a sister around him, and he doesn’t know what he has to do. Maybe he should call the police so that the girl can be reunited with his family.  
«He is studying on the bench right there, do you see him now? He is the one with the buzz-cut and the book. He brought me here with me because our parents are packing because tomorrow we go back to Spain, but he is reading and he doesn’t play with me, and I’m so bored».  
Juan is left speechless for some seconds because this girl really talks too much and without breathing between a word and another. «You are right, little girl, staying here without anything to do isn’t appealing at all. Listen to me, would you like to have a portrait of you? I mean, all the important girls in this world have at least one of them, and I am sure you are worth of it», he offers.  
«A portrait? What is a portrait?». Juan is in love with her innocence and naivety; he wants to draw those big eyes full of curiosity.  
«It is when someone draws your face on a piece of paper, and then you can hang it in your bedroom or where you like it, and it reminds you that you have been special to someone, because painters make portraits only of people that they like», he tries to explain.  
«So this means that you find me special?».  
«Very clever, little girl. So, do you want it or not?».  
The girls makes a big smile and claps his hands. «Of course I want it!», says, and then she sits in the position that she thinks will make her look prettier. Juan makes a big smile too to her, and starts sketching in his scratch pad. He thought that the girl would have been tired of this very soon and that she would have start talking and running away, but she just stays there quiet.  
«Mar, I told you not to bother anyone and I find you here with oh-». Juan stops drawing and turns his head to see who has just talked to the girl. There, he finds the brother, a guy that should be nearly his age and that is clearly uncomfortable, judging from how his hands are fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.  
«But you were studying and I was alone and bored. And he is painter like you! He said that he is making me a portrait so I can hang it in my bedroom and look at it when I want to. He said that every famous person has a portrait of himself so this means I am a famous person too now, I have a portrait too!», she giggles after his speech. The brother looks like one that wants to sink in the ground beneath his feet and never come back, and Juan feels like he should do something to help him.  
«Look, it hasn’t been a problem at all, I’m here to draw and so I drawed her», he says, giving the boy a bright smile, hoping that he understands that really taking care of his little sister for a while didn’t bother him at all, and that he isn’t saying this out of politeness. His sentence, anyway, has the only effect to make the face of the guy even more red than it was before, and Juan doesn’t know what to do.  
«Oh, I’m sorry... I just had to look after her more... I’m really sorry... and thank you, by the way... Mar, let’s go, you have a plane to catch». The girl makes a sad face towards Juan. «Say “Thank you” to your new friend before going», suggests her the brother, and the girl turns back to look at Juan.  
«Thank you very much, it has been a great pleasure». She is clearly reciting some formula her parents must have told her to say when she is talking with someone that she doesn’t know, and Juan holds back a laugh that the beauty of the thing is making arriving to his lips.  
Instead, he makes a little bow. «The pleasure has been mine, milady», he says with a wink. «And don’t forget your portrait!», he adds then, handing her the draw.  
The girl stretches her arm to take it but the paper falls on the grass. Both Juan and the brother kneel down to pick it up, at the same time, with the result that their heads crash one against each other.  
«Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?», asks the brother in a tone that is even more than concerned, more like he has just left a piece of glass fall on the floor.  
«Don’t worry, it’s nothing», answers back Juan, even if his head is hurting a lot and he is rubbing it with strength. If before the guy wanted to be eaten by the grounf, right now he has the face of one that has committed a murder without wanting to do it, as if he is waiting to hear the sound of the siren of the police coming for him.  
«Really, it is nothing. Here, there it is your portrait, I am giving it to your brother this time», says Juan, and gives the draw to him.  
«Thank you, again. And sorry, again this too», says him looking down to the earth.  
He has made some steps away when Juan calls him. «Hey, you study at the Faculty of Arts, right? You are a painter too, if I don’t go wrong».  
  
David’s heart skips a beat, at least. «You... You remember me?». He knows he is giving the impression of a stupid one, but he can’t help it.  
«Yes, I was sure I have already seen you somewhere! By the way, I am Juan», he says, stretching his hand towards him.  
«I know, I mean, everyone knows you, you are so talented and – oh well, it is better if I stop talking here», David wants to slap himself after this. «I am David», adds then, shaking his hand. But Juan laughs and there isn’t any wickedness in it, he just looks like he is having fun for real, so David relaxes a bit.  
«Well, so if you know my art, why don’t you come to my next exhibition? It opens on Saturday evening and it will be there until Wednesday, but on Saturday there is some kind of a buffet for the opening. Only if you want to come, of course».  
David can’t believe what is happening. Of course he has always known about Juan’s exhibitions, he checks every day Juan’s Facebook page and he already knew about this one too, but as usual he thought he would have never found the courage to show up at it. And now, it is Juan in person that is inviting him to go!  
«It would be great! I will come for sure... And, can I bring my friends too? They study at our university too». He doesn’t know why he needed to add this last bit, probably because he knows that without his friends he is going to run away before even entering the exhibition, scared at the thought of being there without knowing anyone apart from Juan, who will have to talk with all the other too though. But as he notices Juan’s smile faltering a little, he wishes he could go back in time and not say that anymore.  
«Of course you can, I am only happy if more people see my paintings», answers Juan, and his smile has returned to be that open and bright he had before.  
«David, we have to go, I have  _a plane to catch_!», reminds him his little sister, imitating his voice and repeating the same words he said some minutes ago.  
«We are going now, keep calm! And so, see you on Saturday, Juan», he says, not really believing that this is happening for real and that he is speaking with the guy that he has watched from a distant bench for so much time.  
Juan nods, and waves a last goodbye to the girl, before returning back to his draws. To his draws about a young guy with a buzz-cut that always sits on the same bench in that park and of whom he has already taken hundreds of portraits, without finding the courage to bring them to him.


End file.
